


a bolt from the blue

by Suicix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: femslash100, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash Drabbletag 7, Fluff, Painting, Post-Canon, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Brunch and then Quidditch has become somewhat a tradition for Cho and Padma. (Or, brunch and painting for Padma. She never much cared for flying.)</i>
</p>
<p>Written for the prompt <a href="http://femslash100.livejournal.com/1812812.html?thread=6089804#t6089804">"Cho/Padma, ink"</a>. (Drabbletag7, Femslash100, LiveJournal.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a bolt from the blue

Brunch and then Quidditch has become somewhat of a tradition for Cho and Padma.

It’s them, and most of what’s left of Ravenclaw’s various team formations from their years at Hogwarts, but some from other houses, too. It’s not a full game, either: just a Quaffle, just Chasers and a Keeper on each side. Cho’s always preferred playing Seeker, but this is still fun, still sends the fresh air straight to her lungs – a reminder that she made it through the war, that she’s still alive.

For Padma, it’s brunch and painting rather than Quidditch. She never much cared for flying. She watches from the stands with her coloured ink and parchment and brushes spread out around her, and Cho waves at her when she flies by, glowing with pride every time she sees Padma applauding her whenever she scores.

The score’s currently tied, so both teams agree on a break, and Cho swoops down to sit beside Padma. Padma hands her a bottle of water, which she takes with a grateful smile.

“Let’s see your painting, then,” she says after taking a swig of water, and Padma shows her.

It’s her, as it usually is – a blur of mostly blue and black on the parchment, the movement so vivid and real looking even though it isn’t a photograph.

“Wow.” It isn’t quite finished yet, but Cho’s still blown away.

“You’re the muse,” Padma tells her, pressing a kiss to Cho’s cheek. “It’s as much you as it is me.”


End file.
